I take one step, another. The air’s thick with decay. The taste of leafmould coats my tongue, makes it slippery against my teeth. I’d forgotten how it tastes, but now it’s as if there’s never been anything else. 255 more words

“Tony Carvalho, that’s it!” the young man dressed in khaki uniform occasionally peered into one of the hovels on either side of the filthy, wet and slippery alleyway up which he walked towards the ‘90 Feet Road’. 4,823 more words